


drive

by contraryrhythm



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, FeyRhys Secret Santa 2016, Fluff, One Shot, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 19:00:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8908261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/contraryrhythm/pseuds/contraryrhythm
Summary: A modern AU songfic with a different, fluffy take on how Feyre & Rhys might have come to terms with their feelings.





	

**Author's Note:**

> My Feyrhys Secret Santa gift which is going to goldenadidas on tumblr! Hope you enjoy! :D

_My hands wrapped around the stick shift_  
_Swerving on the 405,_  
_I can never keep my eyes_  
_Off this_

Feyre is furious. Enraged. And perhaps that isn’t the typical reaction to hearing that your best friend is in love with you, but she doesn’t react typically. And she is angry. She storms down the street, ignoring Rhys calling after her. He’d already tried to pull her back once, but she had yanked her wrist away. And beyond that first attempt, he knows better than to try to follow her, at least not right away.

Her expression is so murderous that passersby give her a wide berth, so she has a clear path to her car, parallel-parked on the street. She climbs into the driver’s seat, locks the door, and sits there for a moment, taking a deep breath. She rests her head on the steering wheel, trying to calm her racing pulse and review the situation calmly.

So, Rhys. The two of them had become allies, and eventually friends, when Rhys helped her escape from an abusive relationship. She hadn’t wanted to see it at first, too infatuated with Tamlin to give up the vision of happily ever after, but Rhys had past experiences with the man, and he’d empowered her to see past the idealism to the reality of her unhappiness with him. Even now, he’s still protecting her and teaching her to protect herself if Tamlin ever tries to take her back. She’ll never be able to repay him for that. He’s been such a part of who she is and who she’s become. His friends have become an irrefutable piece of her life too.

But that’s just the simple part.

Restlessly, Feyre shoves the keys in the ignition and pulls out, heading for the freeway. She doesn’t really have a destination in mind, but she needs to drive. Fast.

For a long time, Feyre thought she loved Tamlin. Perhaps she had, in a way. At one point, he’d been what she thought she wanted. Before the possessiveness and the violence and the treating her like an object had started in earnest. Rhys had helped show her how much more than that she could have, and how much more she wanted it.

And he had been in love with her all the while, and never told her. He believed that she was his soulmate, and he hadn’t said a word.

 _My neck, the feeling of your soft lips_  
_Illuminated in the light,_  
_Bouncing off the exit signs_  
_I missed_

And gradually, he had become more and more important to her. Terrifyingly important to her. Distantly, she realizes that this is the true reason she is angry: not because he didn’t tell her, not because he had hid his motivation, but because she is horribly afraid of what he feels for her and what she might feel in return. It’s too real, too soon after Tamlin. She pushes this line of thinking away, unable to face it quite yet. She presses down on the accelerator instead, merging into the closest lane. Blending into the lines of cars, just starting to turn on their headlights as dusk approaches, is strangely comforting. She had told Rhys as much, the other night when they were driving together.

The memory of the rest of that night floats into her mind unbidden. She flushes. They’d been reckless in the lateness of the night, and slightly tipsy, and undeniably attracted to each other. Her breathing still hitches when she thinks of all the things he’d whispered in her ear when he touched her.

But attraction isn’t the same as love, she reminds herself firmly. That’s the same excuse she’d used the other night: she wanted a “distraction,” that was all. That was all it meant to her. ( _Liar_ , her heart hissed.) It didn’t mean anything.

 _All we do is drive_  
_All we do is think about the feelings that we hide_  
_All we do is sit in silence waiting for a sign_  
_Sick and full of pride_  
_All we do is drive_

And even if she did feel something for him, what of it? He’d helped save her from a horrible situation and had welcomed her with warmth into every part of his life. And given her the opportunities and challenges she needed to become stronger, wiser, and more mature. It was only natural to feel some sort of attachment; that didn’t mean he was her soulmate.

Yes, that must be it, Feyre thought to herself. A residual attachment, a sort of transference, because he had helped her so deeply at such an important time in her life. That was all. She wasn’t in love with him. She was just beginning to convince herself of this easy conclusion when her phone rang. She sighed at the name on the caller ID, but picked up anyway, putting her Bluetooth earpiece in.

“Hi Mor,” she said.

“Hey Fey,” Mor said. “You doing okay?”

“I’m totally fine,” Feyre said quickly. “Why?”

“I mean, Rhys said he told you he loved you and you freaked out and ran away. So I wanted to check in.”

Feyre bit her lip. Trust Mor to cut to the chase. “I’m...trying to think,” she said finally.

“Well, if you don’t mind, could you think quickly? He’s...panicking. And confused.”

She bites her lip. “I don’t want him to be.”

Mor sighs. “Look, I support whatever your decision is. I’m your friend too. But can I say something?”

“Of course,” Feyre says, bracing herself.

“I saw you when you first got away from Tamlin. You were a skinny, mistreated, miserable little thing. But since you’ve been with Rhys, I’ve seen you grow and change and become...so much happier. Not that it’s much of a comparison, since Tamlin was a shitbag. All I’m saying is that I see the way you look at Rhys, and I know you feel something for him. It’s up to you to find out what that is, but it’s there. And obviously, he’s loved you almost since the day he met you.”

“You knew?” Feyre demands.

She chuckles. “Of course I did. He didn’t need to tell me. It was written all over his face. And it wasn’t my place to tell you.”

“You could have hinted,” Feyre complains.

“Fey, I love you, but it’s not my fault you couldn’t see what was right in front of your face,” Mor says wryly.

Feyre makes a grumbling noise. Mor laughs.

“Well, I’ll let you do your thing and decide. Let me know what happens, either way.”

“Thanks,” Feyre says, and she means it. She knows that Mor is downplaying her protectiveness of Rhys and investment in Feyre’s decision for the sake of their own friendship.

“Anytime,” her friend says, and hangs up.

 _And California never felt like home to me_  
_Until I had you on the open road and now we're singing_  
_Your laugh echoes down the highway_  
_Carves into my hollow chest,_  
_Spreads over the emptiness_  
_It's bliss_

Feyre thinks for several minutes about Mor’s words. It’s true that she feels something for Rhys, something unlike anything she’s felt before. And perhaps if she’s brave enough, she can identify it, though that prospect is more frightening than anything she’s ever done.

By this point, she has calmed down enough to realize that it may have been slightly unfair of her to be angry at Rhys when he confessed his feelings. She has concealed her own as much as he has. She has lied to him and herself about what she felt all along--when he saved her, when he first kissed her, when he taught her self-defense, when he introduced her to all of his friends as if she was important. He had made her smile when she hadn’t smiled in a long time. He’d reminded her what a caring, healthy relationship looked like. In a thousand ways, he healed her, while also giving her the space to heal herself.

He is, after all, her best friend. And maybe that’s the problem. Love introduces complications, and complications breed conflict. If she loses Rhys, she loses everything. Her chest tightens, and suddenly she has to blink back tears.

There it is. Her mind is suddenly overwhelmed with memories and images of Rhys: carrying her out of that old apartment, his body curved protectively around her. Brushing back a stray strand of her hair, looking at her in a way that made her head spin. Showing her how to escape a hold, his body pressed against hers. Teasing her until she finally laughed, and laughing himself. Touching her body almost reverently, caressing, holding her as she cried out his name. Glancing over at her as he drove, a faint smile on his face.

Now she’s crying. She takes one hand away from the wheel to swipe at her face. Then she shakes her head and steels herself.

“You’re being stupid,” she tells herself sternly. Her experiences have taught her never to live her life in fear, and she isn’t about to start now.

Fear of losing Rhys falls under that category.

Fear of loving him fits too. And love him she does.

So she takes the next exit, and turns around.

 _It's so simple but we can't stay_  
_Overanalyze again_  
_Would it really kill you if we kissed?_

She doesn’t know what she’s expecting when she knocks on Rhys’ door, but he answers almost immediately.

“Feyre,” he says, and all of his usual bravado is missing. His face is uncertain, vulnerable, and it makes a surge of affection rise unexpectedly in her. She doesn’t want to keep him waiting any longer.

“Rhys,” she says, and it’s hard to say it, especially under the heat of his gaze, but she does. It comes out fast, in a jumble. “First, I want you to know that I’m scared. I am absolutely terrified of losing you, and of what I feel for you, because I’ve never felt like this and--” Her voice chokes off, and her vision blurs so that she can hardly see his face, but she sees the change in his expression. Relief, understanding...and love. She forces herself to keep going, even though her heart is pounding so hard she thinks it’s going to burst. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I want to try, because you are the most important person in my entire life, and I need you, and I think I love--”

Rhys’ arms are suddenly on her cheeks, pulling her close, and then his lips are on hers, and it feels like the most natural, perfect thing in the world. They’ve kissed before, but not with the weight of the truth behind it. Her body is on fire in the best of ways, and her heart is soaring above the blaze. She loves him, and he loves her, and whatever the road ahead holds, that’s what matters.

He pulls back a moment to look her in the eyes, assessing her reaction. She smiles, and puts her arms around his neck, and kisses him with all her heart.

_And California never felt like home_  
_And California never felt like home to me_  
_Until I had you on the open road and I was singing_


End file.
